


godless (denied us)

by catbrains



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: (well foster home technically), Abandonment, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Orphanage, Angst, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Neglect, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicide Attempt, Tags Contain Spoilers, basically just an unhappy mess hoo boi, but there will be a happy ending, izaya was severely abused and neglected by his parents, shizuo doesnt understand why he turned out so messed up despite having a totally normal childhood, there will be plenty of fluff and hurt/comfort and bittersweetness to combat the angst dont worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-14 02:11:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10526706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catbrains/pseuds/catbrains
Summary: Heiwajima Shizuo has never been able to control his anger, and at the age of twelve is taken from his parents and placed into foster care after a particularly dangerous attack on his younger brother.After several years spent deteriorating in a group home, Shizuo is moved to a larger institution specialising in cases even more difficult than his own, where he meets resident problem child Orihara Izaya.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read, so I'm sorry for any mistakes! Please notify me if you find any.  
> Also this is basically a 3k Shizuo character study, I'm sorry. But there will be a lot of plot in the next chapter! (Just don't expect it to be as long as this one lmao)

If Shizuo thinks hard enough, he can remember a point in his early childhood when things were normal.  He was the first son of a middle-class couple, who loved each other well enough and loved him too.  He was the ideal first kid, really; messy dark hair and gappy teeth and the type of laugh that could make strangers on the street turn to smile.  Perfect practise, and a perfect example, for a second child, Kasuka - who was born just after his third birthday and quickly deemed _perfect_ .  Kasuka was a mostly quiet baby; only cried when he really needed something, quickly adapted to sleeping in a cot, didn't whine when he wasn't given attention.  The type of baby that parents could brag about, could take to restaurants and parties and parade around their friends while they cooed about what a ‘little _angel_ ’ he was.  

Shizuo, meanwhile, quickly turned into a nightmare.  It had been alright when he was the only child, when his parents didn't have anyone to compare him to directly, and they could excuse his behaviour as normal.  Kasuka’s birth and subsequent perfection made that impossible; even an average child looked like a hell beast beside him, making Shizuo’s tantrums and screeching simply unbearable.  He wasn't a spoilt child by any means, but as he got older he got louder and more fussy - wouldn't sit still, wouldn't eat properly, wouldn't be quiet and would clamber out of his cot (and, later, his bed) to hammer on his parents door or simply cause a ruckus in the night.  Shizuo, of course, did not remember any of this, though he understood well enough that there must have been something wrong with him in the long run.  Wrong enough for his parents to sit him down age eleven and tell him, very gently, that they had thought long and hard, and they had decided that it might be better if he went away to live somewhere else.  Somewhere where he could be looked after properly, where people would understand him better, somewhere that his parents described as being lovely and kind and special, but Shizuo was old enough to understand what foster care was.  Old enough to understand the concept of abandonment.

And Shizuo, with a split brow and a bruised cheek from a particularly violent rampage at school several days previously, burst into tears.  He begged his parents not to get rid of him, that he was sorry and he didn't know _why_ he got so angry, but he would stop and he would never get into fights anymore, that he would be more like Kasuka and then everything would be okay.  His mother then began to cry herself and gathered him up in her arms.  She swore that he just didn't quite understand, that they didn't _want_ to get rid of him at all and loved him very, very much.  But Shizuo was afraid and already felt as if she was letting go of him, so he swore to himself that he would be good from now on.  That, at least, earned him several more months, during which he did try his very best to be good.  He swallowed his unpredictable rage, went through every single method that the counsellors and psychologists at school had taught him (counting to ten, breathing in for three seconds then out for five, stopping and thinking about what the ‘best course of action’ would be), and for a while he was doing alright, but it was obvious that it couldn't last.  He had tried, he had tried so hard, but ultimately it all came to a head on the day he tried to attack his little brother.

He attacked plenty of people - that was what always got him into trouble at school.  He had a short temper, everyone said; they were hesitant to use the term “anger issues,” (and were loathe to think of anything more clinical) though that's what all the other kids taunted him for.  The moment something annoyed him, be it the sound of someone’s pencil tapping or an insult aimed at him, he flew off the handle before he could even fully comprehend the situation.  His body acted before his brain could even _think_ anything, like he was a jockey trapped on top of a rampaging horse who could only watch the destruction he left in his wake, unable to do anything to try and stop it.  At school, he threw chairs and pens and books, shoved people into walls and punched them until they cried and bled.  He didn't enjoy it (or, at least, the vague satisfaction he got from his fist connecting with flesh never surmounted the agonising guilt he felt afterwards), and he wasn't a bully - he just couldn't control it.  Home was a safer environment, at least, where there was little to irritate him and he could largely be left alone since his parents were often at work, but there was still Kasuka.  Kasuka, who was sweet and quiet and never got into anybody’s way, who was gentle and fragile and utterly _doomed_ the moment Shizuo set his sights on him with rage burning in his chest.  Thinking back, Shizuo could not even remember what the argument had been about.  Something stupid, fickle, the sort of thing that only two young siblings possibly _could_ argue about, but Shizuo had snapped and tried to throw the closest thing - which just happened to be a refrigerator.  

He had failed, rather spectacularly of course, and could only be thankful for that fact when he came back to himself, sprawled on the kitchen floor under the crushing weight of the appliance.  He could hear Kasuka talking on the phone, voice taking on the childish air that it rarely ever held as he spoke to the ambulance operator, trying to relay the necessary information beyond “please help my brother, he's hurt, it's bad, _please_ ”.  When Shizuo next woke up, he was in a hospital bed with his neck in a brace, his right arm and left leg in plaster, and a dull ache spread throughout his entire body.  Kasuka was sat in a chair beside the bed, staring at him with a look in his eyes - mature far beyond his years - that Shizuo couldn't decipher, but still he didn't seem afraid.  He'd never been afraid, no matter what Shizuo had done - who he'd hurt or what (be it bones or property) he had broken.

“You should rest, brother,” is all he said, quietly and evenly as if he was the older brother soothing the younger, and, with no other option in his drowsy mind, Shizuo obeyed.

The next person to wake him was his mother, staring down at him with a look in her eyes that Shizuo decidedly _could_ decipher.  In her eyes, he saw grief, disappointment, resignation.  She looked tired, too; too tired to try to hide any of this from him.  Kasuka was gone, long gone probably, and Shizuo couldn't help but feel dreadfully alone under her gaze.

“I've talked to the doctors,” she said once she was sure he was awake enough to understand her, busying herself with pouring him a cup of water so that she wouldn't have to meet his eyes, “And they've agreed that perhaps living with people who...know how to help you properly would be best.”

Laying in a hospital bed, held together with plaster casts and bandages and tortured by the memory of Kasuka’s eyes widening - slightly, ever so slightly - when he had snapped, Shizuo couldn't help but agree.

“It doesn't have to be permanent,” she soothed, voice very tight as she stared down at the cup in her hand now full of the lukewarm water from the jug beside Shizuo’s bed.  She made no move to offer it to him.  

“It can just be for a little while.  Until you get a bit more settled in yourself.  Until you're…”

She sighed.  He was young, young and so fragile and she knew that this was wrong, that this wasn’t fair, but when she had received the call at work telling her of what had happened - that they were considering her son unstable, a danger - she knew that this was the right choice.  To protect Shizuo, to protect Kasuka.  To protect _herself_.  With a gulp, she continued.

“...until you're less of a danger.”

Shizuo’s chest restricted so sharply at the words that for a moment he couldn't quite breathe, though he knew they were true.  It was just...different to hear them out loud.  Different to hear them in his mother’s voice, rather than his own or the other kids at school.  But he knew - he was dangerous and uncontrollable.  He was almost surprised that they hadn't decided to send him to a juvenile detention centre or something.  He’d heard about them on the television, and the older kids at school all mocked that he was going to end up in one - and then, eventually, a real prison, too.  

‘Shizuo-kun is such a monster! Who is he gonna kill first?’

He could've killed Kasuka.  So easily.  Even if he'd just dropped the refrigerator, if it had hit Kasuka he would be broken like Shizuo was.  Probably broken so much _worse_ than Shizuo was because Shizuo got hurt so much that broken bones didn't even really hurt anymore, not as much as they used to, and Kasuka just seemed so _small_ and breakable, especially in comparison.  Even if he wasn't afraid of Shizuo, Kasuka was in danger when they were together.  So were the other children at school, so were his _parents_.  Once he was bigger and stronger, though he was already tall for his age, surely he’d end up doing something terrible.  

Maybe it was better for everyone if he was just locked up.

His mother had explained everything that she could, speaking constantly in that soft, soothing voice that Shizuo had last heard when Kasuka was a baby, but she admitted that she did not have much of a hand in what would actually happen.  This only scared Shizuo further, until a doctor came in and informed them that one of the foster carers from the home where he would be moving would visit them the next day to tell him everything that he wanted to know - though this, also, was not as comforting as it should have been.  His mind supplied him with images of the evil orphanage workers from old movies, crotchety old women who would screech at him and lock him in the attic for misbehaving, and that night after his mother went home he did not sleep at all.  He stayed awake, staring at the bitterly familiar paintings on the ceiling of the hospital room as the hallways bustled around him, footsteps echoing through the children’s ward as babies screamed and mothers wept.

He could not remember much of the meeting the following day, only the anxiety he felt and the texture of the sheets gripped in his hands as they shook.  The carer - parent? He'd never called her that, always just Kanna - had spoken mostly to his mother, all smiles and promises of a loving, nurturing environment that he could thrive in.  She was kind-looking, the way one would expect a young mother to look, but she did not look at all as if she would be able to ‘handle’ Shizuo - especially since his own mother had failed at the task.  This observation soon proved to be true.  

Roughly a week after the meeting, Shizuo was walking through the doors of the small group home he was to reside in with a duffle bag of his belongings and pure vindictiveness in his heart.  There were three other children in the group home already: two boys and one girl, both boys several years older than him and the girl several years younger.  The oldest boy, Asahi, was sixteen when Shizuo moved in and incredibly boring - studious and charismatic in a way that made Shizuo slightly jealous, but he was also rude and far too self-assured for someone so average.  He liked to argue and enjoyed goading Shizuo into petty fights, but he was always the first to start blubbering when things got violent.  The other boy, Itsuki, was fourteen and frankly pathetic.  He got into almost as many fights as Shizuo did, but rarely if ever came out the victor and instead spent his time sulking in his room with black eyes and broken hands.  The little girl, Aoi, was three and thus too young to be of any interest to Shizuo.  Sure, he liked Kasuka, but he didn't like children - or, at least, he liked to tell himself that he didn't, when in reality he was merely terrified of hurting her.  

It was perhaps due to this fear, combined with the desperate desire for privacy and isolation from the other boys, that drove Shizuo to be even more violent than he had been at home.  He got into screaming matches with Asahi, threw plates at the dinner table and sent food flying at the walls, got into fights with Itsuki at any possible opportunity - even when they were both bruised and bandaged from other scuffles - and let his frustration at Aoi’s unwillingness to _go away_ boil over until he was yelling at her, too.  Kanna did her best, really she did, but it seemed as if she would have had her hands full with Itsuki alone, let alone two other children - one still a toddler - _and_ Shizuo.  She looked less pretty and put-together as time crawled on, grew irritable despite all of her best efforts, and even the help of the other temporary carers and volunteers going in and out of the house each week wasn't enough to hold down all four of them.  It took just under four years for her to finally snap.

It is mid-February when she sits down Shizuo - freshly sixteen - and informs him that he is going to be transferred to a different foster home.  She doesn't bother phrasing it like an offer, because it isn't, it is a decision that had likely been made months ago, and now all that is left to do is boot him out and send him on his merry way.  Shizuo can't even find it in himself to feel any sort of betrayal or abandonment like he had the first time - this was a long time coming.  Asahi and Itsuki had both aged out the foster care system and were living happy, free lives somewhere in the city - or perhaps miles and miles away, where Shizuo would like to go - and now Kanna is left with only him and Aoi.  “Then you'll finally get the happy family life you wanted in the first place,” he says, not at all bitter as he inspects the paperwork displayed over the coffee table in front of him, and Kanna smiles ruefully.

“I love you, Shizuo, you know that.  And I love Asahi and Itsuki, too.  But I'll admit that I was too ambitious in taking you all on.  Maybe I'll do better with just Aoi.”

Shizuo shrugs casually.  “You did just fine with all of us.  ‘S’not your fault we’re all the way that we are.”

“The whole point of this was supposed to be for me to raise you better than that.  Let you grow out of your wrongdoings.”

Shizuo’s gaze is pulled to the stars on his knuckles not quite covered by the clumsy bandages wrapped around his hands.  They are almost healed now, and he is reminded that in just under two weeks’ time - after the week-long break - he’ll be off suspension and back at school.

“Is this place far away?” he asks, leaning forwards to pick up a brochure.  This place is more of an institution than a home, a huge building that looks something like a hospital or a school, and the paragraph on the back says that it specialises in “particularly difficult cases”.

“Not terribly,” Kanna replies, “Other side of Ikebukuro.  You’ll be going to a new school.”

Shizuo glances up at that, somewhat anxiously.  “What school?”

“Raijin High School, nothing special.  But it might be good for you - a fresh start,” Kanna picks up a letter from the table and glances over it, then looks over at Shizuo beside her, “I think this place will be better for you.  I wouldn't have requested you transfer otherwise.”

“It looks like a hospital.  Or a prison,” Shizuo snorts derivatively, unwilling to admit to the fear still sitting heavy in his stomach.

“Don't let appearances fool you, it's a nice place.  Not too crowded either.  There’s lots of space there, lots of privacy - not like here.  And they know what they’re doing.”

“‘Particularly difficult cases’,” Shizuo reads flatly, and Kanna chuckles.

“Yeah.  They specialise in children from traumatic or particularly sensitive environments - kids of criminals, or abuse victims, or...well, you know.”

“And you're sure this is the place for me? I'm not a trauma survivor.  I'm just a fu-fuck--freakin’ monster.”

“ _Don't_ say that,” Kanna admonishes firmly in a tone more concerned than at all harsh, though she smiles softly at him managing to (almost) censor himself, “There’s nothing wrong with you, and you’re certainly not a monster.”

Silently, Shizuo thinks back to the way Kanna yelled when she was especially tired.  When she was surrounded by broken plates and Aoi was crying and Shizuo could feel blood on his hands and Itsuki was cradling his already-bruising face, swearing and shouting while Asahi stood on and watched.  It's been years since then, but he is still the same person - the same kid.  And maybe, with this, he’ll finally be able to let that kid go.  

Softly, he speaks up after several beats of silence.  “Will they really be able to help me?”

Kanna looks over to him and smiles.  She reaches out a hand and gently takes his, running her thumb softly over his healing knuckles. When she speaks, her voice is nothing but a whisper - like she's sharing a secret.  Something sacred.  “They will, Shizuo.  I promise.”

 

~

 

Four days later (far too soon), Shizuo is climbing out of the same car he was taken from his home in four years ago and facing the place that will likely be his home until his eighteenth birthday.  It doesn't look quite as threatening as it did in the photographs, but it's large and does give off the impression of a hospital - clinical, rather than homely.  Kanna climbs out of the driver’s side and makes her way to the boot, but Shizuo rushes over and intercepts before she can attempt to put the burden of his bags and suitcases on herself.

“How chivalrous,” she chuckles, and ruffles his messy brown hair.  Disgruntled, Shizuo huffs and lifts a bag (one a duffle containing mainly clothes and technology, the other his school backpack) onto each shoulder before hefting up his larger suitcase with little effort.  The second he rolls behind him as he makes his way from the car to the double doors of the building.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Kanna calls from behind him when he's halfway there, and Shizuo pauses.  He doesn't want her to, knows he needs to do this on his own, but he turns around and tries desperately to find the words to ask her for what he does want.  However, it seems that Kanna is already a step ahead of him as she rushes from the car to take his face between her gentle hands and press a kiss to his cheek since she can't even nearly reach his forehead.  She smiles when she draws back, and her eyes look slightly wet.  

“I love you, Shizuo,” she says softly, traces her thumb over his cheekbone, then turns and makes her way slowly back to the car to allow him the time to get inside without any eyes on him.  He tightens his grip on his suitcases and turns.  And then, with his heart in his throat, he walks through the automatic doors - _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed this! I've been working on it for a long-ass time (I swear it was meant to be just a couple paragraphs of character-building before plot) and panicked so hard about uploading it, but it's here now and it exists so please let me know if you liked it!  
> Also, feel free to come talk to me on my Tumblr kittycatbrains, or writing Tumblr catbrains-writing (where the fic will be cross-posted) if you wanna ask questions or just chat  
> Thank you very very much for reading!! And hopefully you stick around for future chapters!


	2. Chapter 2

When Shizuo walks through the doors, he expects to at least be greeted by a carer or two, maybe a social worker, but is promptly surprised to find the small (but neat and modern-looking) foyer completely devoid of life.  

“Heiwajima-san!”

Ah.  Perhaps not completely.

Shizuo jumps and spins to the source of the noise, which turns out to be a bespectacled teenager with unruly brown hair sat on a large leather corner sofa to the left of the doors, though he soon leaps to his feet and bounds over to where Shizuo is stood with the enthusiasm of an overexcited dog.  Flinching back, Shizuo thinks for a moment that he is either going to be hugged or punched, but the boy does neither and merely stops a meter or so away from him, thrusting out his right hand in a businessman-like manner.  It seems to be an observed and imitated move, likely taken from his father, and Shizuo’s first thought - nonsensically - is “yakuza”.  This notion overtakes Shizuo’s mind enough for him to cease movement, suddenly anxious, and when he does not immediately reciprocate the gesture (despite clearly having his hands full), the boy looks perplexed.

“You... _are_ Heiwajima-san, right? Yume-san never said what you looked like…”

Snapping out of it, Shizuo shakes his head.  “No, no--I mean, uh, yes, uh...I--I am Heiwajima.  Heiwajima Shizuo,” Shizuo responds awkwardly, slightly overwhelmed and for whatever reason terrified of saying the wrong thing.  The boy seems rather harmless - jovial and baby-faced - but there is still a certain air of danger about him, a certain uneasiness.

“Oh, good!” The boy’s smile returns to his face easily, as if it had never fallen.  “Sorry if I freaked you out by using your last name, a lot of people here don't like that...But I figured I didn't want to be too forward and use your first name without permission!”

The boy laughs again, but Shizuo isn't quite sure what the joke is.  Seemingly unbothered, he merely extends his hand again, this time somewhat more forcefully.

“My name is Kishitani Shinra! It's nice to meet you, Shi--wait, you never actually said what to call you!”

Shizuo drops one of the suitcases and shakes Shinra’s hand, “Shizuo is fine.  Thanks.  And, uh, it's nice to meet you too, Kishitani.”

“Ahh, that's not fair at all! If I call you Shizuo, you call me Shinra.  Otherwise it sounds like you don't like me!”

For a moment, Shizuo debates responding that he's not quite sure that he _does_ , but decides that this isn't really the place nor time to be making enemies.  “Sorry.”

“It's fine!” Shinra chirps gleefully, then hefts up the suitcase that Shizuo dropped with a grunt of effort, “Oh, geez! What have you got in here?”

“Uh...clothes, mostly.”

“I would've guessed ‘rocks’.  But, anyway, come on! We can take your bags up to your room first.”

Shinra takes off in the direction of a door to the left of the main desk, but Shizuo calls after him.

“Isn't...anyone coming down?”

“Hmm?” Shinra hums casually, spinning on his heels to look back, “What do you mean?”

“Well...I dunno, isn't someone meant to explain stuff to me? Give me a tour? Introduce everyone?”

“Well, yeah,” Shinra laughs, “Me!”

“I mean someone who works here.  That's how it's supposed to go, right? They can't just expect me to walk in and make myself at home.”

Shrugging, Shinra turns his back again and continues in the direction of the door, huffing with the effort of dragging the suitcase.  “Something came up.  Yume-san had to leave, and nobody else is here today except one of the volunteers, so he can't do anything official like sign you in.  I guess you'll just have to wait.”

Shizuo considers informing Shinra that that sounds wildly unprofessional, and is a less-than-great first impression of the place that's going to be his home for the next few years, but he also can't help but be slightly glad.  The fact that he will be able to settle in before being forced to face a league of new people with too many questions and a not-yet-dashed desire to _help_ him is enough to soothe his anxiety, if only slightly.  Hesitantly, he follows Shinra through the door.

They are met with a long hallway painted in rather clinical neutral colours, decorated sparsely with a few generic framed paintings, which ends in a staircase.  There is a door to the right, behind which Shizuo can hear voices and the din of a television, but Shinra struggles straight past it and heads instead for the staircase.  He stops short at the bottom, however, standing the suitcase up with a huff.

“I...don't think...I can make it,” Shinra pants, and Shizuo suspects that he's playing it up a bit - they'd barely walked fifteen feet.  Impatient, he snatches up the handle of the suitcase and hefts it up, along with the other suitcase and the two bags still hanging onto a single shoulder each.  Shinra’s eyes widen, before an amazed grin spreads across his face.

“That's insane!” he exclaims in delight, rounding in front of Shizuo to get a better look, “How’re you doing that?”

“Doing what?” Shizuo glances down at the suitcases, “It's not heavy.”

“Yeah, it is!” Shinra insists, despite having barely carried it, “Especially combined with everything else.  Can you really make it upstairs with all of that? Or are you just showing off?”

As if to spite him, Shizuo pushes past and scales the stairs faster than Shinra can keep up with.  Once he reaches the top of the first set, he pauses until Shinra stumbles to his side, panting.  

“Where’s my room?” Shizuo asks, glancing around the hallway leading away from the staircase on the floor they are currently on.  There is no indication of where they are, nor any directions in the form of signs, only blank magnolia walls and white doors.

“Top floor,” Shinra chokes out, and is promptly left leaning heavily against the metal bannister as Shizuo takes off again.  

The top floor looks vastly similar to the rest of the home, not that Shizuo’s seen much of it but various hallways, the only difference being the decorated doors.  Shizuo can only see a couple of them before they disappear around the corner, but he can only assume that these are the bedrooms.  Foregoing the wait for Shinra’s guidance, he wanders down the hallway alone seeing as there doesn't seem to be anywhere for him to exactly get lost.  

There are four doors on the wall in front of him, though only the furthest one is decorated particularly brightly, and an adjacent corner to indicate another section.  Each door features a sign most likely displaying the occupant’s name, though Shizuo can't be bothered to attempt to read any of the kanji, as well as a spattering of pictures and stickers as personalisation.  He makes his way further down the hallway until he reaches the corner, and only then does he notice the door beyond it - opposite the bright door.  This door is completely devoid of decoration and has a sign made of dark blue wood, reading ‘Shizuo’ in white paint in the neat handwriting of an adult.  

“Ah, you've found your room!” Shinra exclaims brightly as he rounds the corner, as if this is a commendable achievement, “Yours is right next to mine!”

Shizuo expects him to point to the door directly opposite him, with the dark red sign and childish decorations, but instead Shinra gestures to the door next to that one - diagonal to Shizuo’s.  His sign is a lighter blue than the one on Shizuo’s door, with his name in yellow paint, and is decorated with mostly photographs.

“Look!” Shinra demands, pointing enthusiastically to a photograph at eye-level, “This is my girlfriend!”

Shizuo steps closer somewhat reluctantly and quirks an eyebrow.  In the photo, a girl dressed in full biker gear - including a blue and yellow helmet - stands without enthusiasm, her hand blurred from a movement that Shizuo imagines intended to knock the camera from the photographer’s hands.  He can only hope she succeeded, especially if the photographer was Shinra.

“She's shy,” Shinra explains, his eyes not moving from staring dreamily at his girlfriend’s completely covered face, “She said I couldn't put any pictures of her without the helmet on my door, but I have some on my phone.  Dump your bags, I'll show you!”

Somehow, against his will, Shizuo ends up sitting gingerly on the edge of Shinra’s bed, having caught only the briefest glimpse of his own, while the boy raves about his girlfriend and searches desperately through his phone for a picture of her.  

“She’s really pretty, seriously.  Like, life-changing! When I first met her, I thought she was gorgeous, but I was way too young to actually _appreciate_ that this is the woman I'm going to--oh, I found one!”

Shinra thrusts his old flip phone in Shizuo’s face, and doesn't back off until Shizuo grabs his wrist and yanks it away to a distance at which he can actually _see_ .  The picture on the screen is somewhat blurry, and depicts a young white woman - at least twenty - with auburn hair sat on a fully black motorcycle with the same helmet in-hand, seemingly halfway through the motion of putting it on.  She _is_ pretty, Shizuo supposes, but he wouldn't exactly go for ‘life-changing’.

“She's, uh...she's cute,” Shizuo remarks awkwardly, unsure what will come off as impolite - how are you meant to compliment someone else’s girlfriend without just sounding weird?

“I _know_!” Shinra gushes, seemingly unbothered by Shizuo’s lack of enthusiasm, “She’s from Ireland; she’d only just moved here when I first met her.  My dad brought her home and--”

“Your _dad_ brought her home?” Shizuo interrupts, though Shinra seems to be unaware of the of the connotations of that sentence.  There must be something wrong with Shinra’s family for him to have ended up here - what exactly was his dad _doing_?

As if reading Shizuo’s mind, Shinra laughs heartily.  “No, no, it's nothing like that! She didn't have anywhere to stay.  Dad said she had amnesia, or something, so he agreed to let her stay with us on one condition.”

Shinra is speaking casually, but Shizuo still feels uneasy.  “Which was…?”

“She’d let him experiment on her!”

“He--what the _fuck_?!”

For a moment, Shizuo is fully convinced that he misheard Shinra.  There is simply no way that that could happen, let alone Shinra bringing it up so casually in the same bright tone he’s been using since he first greeted Shizuo, but Shinra is unwavering and seems completely unbothered by both the meaning behind his words, and the horror on Shizuo’s face.  

“I don't think he ever actually _got_ to,” Shinra placates, as if that makes anything better, “He did one vivisection, but then he got arrested before he could do anything else.  I suppose I'm glad, if he'd ended up killing her, I'd never get to marry her!”

“He...your dad--” Shizuo trails off before he can even attempt to construct a sentence.

“Oh, do you not know what a vivisection is? It's like dissection, but the subject is alive...and stays that way, hopefully!” Shinra laughs, but eventually lets his face fall into something on the more upset side of neutral when Shizuo does not react.  The expression does not look genuine, but he does seem to be trying his best to gauge Shizuo’s emotions.

“Ahh, seriously, it's not that bad,” Shinra says, in a manner that seems to be an attempt on comfort, “He did get arrested, after all - he won't be let out for a long time yet! And I'll probably never see him again, so no worries, right?”

Shizuo blinks, the words ‘particularly difficult cases’ flashing through his mind, and wonders what extent of trauma Shinra is holding beneath his unnatural smiles and unwavering enthusiasm.  And what exactly Shinra’s girlfriend had been through.  He quickly decides that it is not his business to know.  

“I'm...sorry?” Shizuo manages to get out, uncomfortable, but Shinra smiles brightly and shakes his head.

“Like I said, no worries! I was super young anyway, about six I think? I don't remember anything.  There’re definitely people here who’ve had it worse than me! But don't worry about it, you haven't even unpacked your stuff yet.”

“Yeah,” Shizuo says quietly, “I should...I should probably do that, right?”

“Go ahead! Yume-san should be home before five, and she'll probably wanna meet you, so I'll come get you.  And then you can meet everyone else downstairs!”

Shizuo stands up and exits Shinra’s room as quickly as possible, even though the boy has returned his attention to his phone and is paying no mind to him as he steps out into the hallway and shuts the door behind him with too much care.  Something like guilt had settled in his stomach since Shinra had revealed only the slightest bit of what he had been through, and as he makes his way to the door marked with his name he feels like an intruder.  He does not belong here, he hadn't _gone through_ anything.  He’s just messed up, and it can't be anyone’s fault but his.  He doesn't deserve pity, he doesn't deserve help - especially when other people need it so much more.  

He opens the door to his room and shuts it softly behind him, leaning against it and inhaling deeply.  The room is large, larger than his last one had been - or his room at his parents’ house - and furnished with a queen-size bed with plain sheets, an empty, brand new bookshelf, a wardrobe, a matching dresser, and a desk with a black office chair.  There are two shelves, white to match the rest of the furniture, on the wall beside the bookshelf, also empty but seemingly new, and a soft, dark blue rug covering a large portion of the light brown carpet.  It feels empty, like it's not his, and that's a stupid thing to think when he's only been there for five minutes and hasn't even opened his bags or suitcases yet,  but it's all he can think.

 _This is home,_ he reminds himself.   _This is family, this is home,_ but he hasn't met any of his fucking family yet and has seen two rooms of his “home”.  He doesn't belong here, but he doesn't belong with Kanna either.  Doesn't belong with his parents, doesn't belong at school, doesn't _belong_.  

Shizuo clenches his fists and promises himself that he isn't going to break anything.

If he can just unpack, he’ll be fine.  He just needs to stake his claim over the new territory, _make_ it home, and he’ll be fine.  Unclenching his fists like he's prying open the grip of a corpse, Shizuo walks over to the suitcases dumped on the rug by the bed and kneels down before them.  He unzips the larger one slowly, carefully, and stares emptily at the old clothes and shoes that barely fit him anymore because his clothes are torn and stained with dirt and blood from schoolyard fights so frequently that Kanna largely stopped buying him new ones.  But Kanna isn't here anymore, and Shizuo can't figure out why that realisation makes his eyes sting until his fingernails are digging harshly into his palms and his shoulders are shaking.  He wants to go home, but he doesn't know where that is, and he feels _pathetic_ sat crying on his bedroom floor because he misses his parents, misses Kanna, misses Kasuka, misses _everything_ because suddenly it feels like he's lost it all - as if his last home had been the one thing still tying him to his parents, to their promise of ‘it doesn't have to be permanent’, and now it's all over.  

Silently, Shizuo wipes the tears roughly from his cheeks and begins to unpack.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, hello! I'm sorry for the long wait for this chapter, but thank you all for being patient! It's kind of difficult getting back into the swing of things with writing, but hopefully soon I'll be on a (somewhat) regular update schedule and you'll get new chapters far faster than this!  
> This chapter went in a totally different direction than what I was aiming for, but hopefully you guys enjoyed it. Please feel free to leave a comment (or reblog the first chapter on Tumblr!..but that of course doesn't disallow you from reblogging the other chapters if you're particularly excited about an update lmao) if you did! And thank you so much to everyone who has left comments (and kudos!) so far, I'm sorry I suck at replying but every single one makes me super duper happy and I read them a million times over to motivate myself lmao  
> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> (Hm. Say, I wonder where Izaya is...?)


	3. Chapter 3

Shizuo isn't sure exactly what time it is when he hears a knock at his door, but he guesses that it's been at least a couple of hours.  Jolting suddenly, he swipes a hand over his cheek to ensure that no tears somehow remain.  Once ensuring that there is no way anyone can tell he had cried, he moves to get up from his position on the floor to open it, though it's clear who it is that's knocking, but it flies open before he can even stand up properly.

“Shizuo!” Shinra cries enthusiastically, as if they've been friends for years and haven't seen each other in weeks.  They've known each other for about four hours, and Shizuo has been alone in his room for more than two of them.  He grunts in response, rolling his shoulders to try and soothe the ache in his back that he hadn't even noticed was forming until he had moved, while Shinra steps properly into the room.

Shizuo had managed to unpack and put away most of his things, putting his clothes into the drawers and wardrobe while trying to imitate the way Kanna had folded them so neatly to put them into his suitcase.  While his efforts had not been completely in vain, he had no doubt that everything was going to be at least slightly crumpled the next time he wanted to wear any of it.  The last time he had moved he hadn't had to worry about any of this - his things were packed neatly and put into his room at Kanna’s house without his help nor input, he had merely arrived with a single suitcase to a room that already seemed like home.  Well, _a_ home; it didn't really feel like Shizuo’s.  But at least this way he got to choose where everything should go - though that was also proving a challenge.  While most of his things had been put away, there were still shoes and jackets and books and DVDs strewn about the floor providing a considerable trip hazard, and the task of putting them all away seemed needlessly daunting.  Putting clothes away was like arriving at a hotel, putting books away was like _moving in_.  Not to mention sorting out his bedding, which was now strewn across the generic bedsheets with little hope of being used anytime soon.

“You've been busy!” Shinra comments despite the mess, stepping gracelessly around a formerly knee-high pile of DVDs that had fallen over about an hour ago after Shizuo accidentally kicked them.  “I've never had to sort out my own room.  It was already all done when I got here, though I suppose I would've been too young to even try and do it myself.  Yume-san did a good job, at least - I've never changed it.  Izaya says it's boring, says I should at least switch the furniture ‘round, but I don't see the point.  It's fine the way it is, why go to the trouble of fixing something that isn't broken, right? Though I guess it gets annoying when I get new stuff and have to figure out where to put it.”

Again, Shizuo grunts.  He hadn't even managed to get a ‘hello’ in before Shinra was launching into another tirade about nothing in particular.  Shizuo has no idea who Izaya is and no real idea who Yume is, either.  He could ask, but that means engaging Shinra in his endless chattering, and he doesn't want a repeat of their hour-long and completely one-sided conversation about the precise shade of auburn Shinra’s girlfriend’s hair is.  Apparently, he has a habit of speaking a mile a minute without providing any context for himself, which leads Shizuo to suspect that his endless speech is merely him thinking out loud, and is likely largely for his own benefit.

“At least all the furniture’s already here, I guess,” Shizuo says, “I just have to put stuff in it.”

“Right! Not that you really have a crazy amount.  You should’ve seen Namie when she first got here! She had, like, four suitcases completely full of clothes.  I think she even brought some of her own furniture! Yume-san wasn't totally pleased about that, but she allowed it since she says it makes kids more comfortable to have things they're familiar with.  It makes me feel kinda bad for the kids who come here with nothing.”  As usual, Shinra’s voice holds none of the emotion that his words imply.  “But you've been at it for hours, you're probably bored, right? It's-” Shinra pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time, “-just gone four! Yume-san should be back soon.  Would you like to come downstairs? You can meet everyone before we eat.”

Shizuo thinks back to the multitude of loud voices he had heard behind the door.  He had no idea what the other kids here would be like; were they all much younger? Were they all like Shinra? Or were they all quiet and disturbed? Would they stare at him in silent judgement - a single unit that he couldn't be a part of?

“Do they know I'm here?”

“Yeah.  They’ve known someone else was moving in as soon as it was confirmed.  Stuff like that has to be sorted out early so everyone can get used to the idea,” Shinra explains, navigating his way back to the door, “But things with you were quite last-minute, weren't they? I don't think it's a big deal, though.  Are you coming?”

Ignoring the anxiety settling heavy in his stomach, Shizuo follows Shinra out of the door.  They make their way down the hallway and down all the stairs again, until they're in the ground floor hallway and approaching the door between the staircase and the exit.  The noise behind it grows louder as they approach, no clear voices discernible over the general din of chatter and what sounds like a video game.  Shinra pushes the door open and drags Shizuo inside by his wrist.

In a moment, the room is silent and every pair of eyes is on Shizuo.  The room is fairly large, the space taken up mainly by a huge corner sofa in black leather diagonal to an impressively-sized flatscreen television atop a modern white TV stand placed in the right corner from the door.  There are a couple of bookshelves along the wall to the left, with a small coffee table and several comfy-looking chairs beside them, and a cabinet on the wall behind the sofa open to reveal piles of well-used board games.  There are three children sat on the rug beside the cabinet with a game that Shizuo does not recognise in the space between them, two other children sat by the bookshelves, and two teenagers and two smaller children sat on the sofa.  All of them are staring.

“This is the new kid!” Shinra announces, as if it isn't obvious, “His name’s Shizuo.”

“But...but Yume-san isn't here,” protests one of the children playing the board game - a meek-looking young boy, seemingly about ten, with black hair cropped close to his head, “How come you're here if she isn't?”

There is a beat of silence, until Shizuo coughs awkwardly like it will dispel his nerves.  “My, uh...my previous carer dropped me off.  I've been sorting my stuff out.”

“You came here from a different home?” the other boy at the board game with straight brown hair and slightly muddy clothes pipes up in something akin to awe, a look of anticipation that Shizuo is far too familiar with rising on his features, “Did you get kicked out? What did you do?!”

“Masaomi, shut up!” the other little boy cries, yanking at Masaomi’s arm.  Shizuo grimaces.

“I didn't _do_ anything,” Shizuo mutters, feeling anger begin to tense his arms up.  Masaomi seems to have no idea that he's on thin ice.  “Does it matter, anyway?”  

“It doesn't,” assures the teenage boy on the sofa suddenly, dressed in a dark green hoodie and a beanie, before turning his glare to Shinra, “You should at least be defending him, since you insisted on being his caretaker ‘til Yume-san gets back.”

“Don't blame me, Kadota-kun! You should be scolding Masaomi and Mikado!”

“ _All_ of you should shut up,” snaps the older girl on the sofa, curled up daintily against the arm with a bitter expression on her face.  She looks far too old to be here, and seems to be aware of that fact, too.  

“Namie-san, why aren't you in charge?” Shinra questions, tilting his head innocently.  Namie glowers at him.

“Because I don't _care_.”

“She misses Izaya-san!” Masaomi declares, heedless of Mikado tugging desperately at his sleeve.  Namie scoffs, rolling her eyes in a seemingly well-practiced motion.

“I can assure you that I do not.”  For the second time, Shizuo wonders who the hell Izaya is, but it doesn't seem like anybody will be explaining anything to him anytime soon.

“Well, Yume-san should be back soon, anyway,” placates the boy beside Namie - Kadota, apparently, “Then we won't have to worry about who’s in charge.”

“Daiki-san’s in charge!” insists Mikado.  

“But he’s not _here_ ,” Masaomi argues, “So I think the next oldest person should be in charge.”

“I don't want to be in charge,” Namie snaps.  

“Me neither,” Kadota sighs, despite the fact that the position has apparently already defaulted to him.

“So who’s the next oldest?”

“It's Shinra, isn't it?” the girl at the board game says quietly.

“Nuh-uh! How old is Sh--um..Sh…”

“Shizuo,” Shizuo offers.

“Yeah! How old is Shizuo-san?”

“I'm, uh, I'm sixteen.  My birthday was a couple weeks ago.”

“That makes Shizuo-san the next oldest! So he’s in charge!” Masaomi announces as if this is a personal victory, jumping up to stand victoriously before the other two kids.  Shizuo agrees with Namie that ‘being in charge’ is an authority that he wants no part of.

“Izaya’s usually in charge,” Mikado whines.  Masaomi glowers at him.

“Because he's bossy!”

“No, he's _not_!” shrieks one of the little girls on the sofa, startling Shizuo.  She stands up on the sofa to glare over the back at Masaomi, chubby cheeks puffed out in anger with long dark brown hair hanging messy down her shoulders.

“He is, too!” Masaomi insists, apparently completely willing to bicker with a child seemingly no older than five, “He's bossy and annoying and--”

“Shut up!” the little girl yells, “You’re being mean! I'm telling Yume-san! _And_ I'm telling Iza-nii!”

“He won't do anything! Yume-san will ground him if he does!”

“He's already grounded once he gets back,” Namie scoffs, then gives Masaomi a dark look, “If he's got nothing to lose, I'd be careful if I were you.”

A look of fear crosses Masaomi’s face, and Namie laughs.

“Stop terrorising the children for fun,” Kadota admonishes her, though this only serves to amuse her further.

“Why not? They terrorise me.”

Suddenly, the sound of a car rolling into the large driveway snatches the attention of the room.  There is a beat of silence, until the younger children erupt in joy.

“Yume-san! Iza-nii!” the little girl that had yelled at Masaomi cries, standing to run to the door only to be interrupted by Shinra.

“She’ll be in in a second, go sit down,” he instructs, pushing her gently back to the sofa and then leading Shizuo further into the room, towards the coffee table and chairs.  The door opens once they turn around, and a woman that Shizuo can only assume to be Yume enters.  For reasons that Shizuo doesn't understand, the air in the room is suddenly disappointed.

“Iza-nii?” the little girl calls out, diving off the sofa again and trying to make a break for the hallway.  Yume picks her up before she can make it.

“Hello, everyone!” Yume announces politely to the room, situating the little girl at her hip.  A chorus of ‘hello’s meets her.

“Izaya-kun can't come home just yet,” Yume explains gently, mainly to the little girl but pitching her voice loud enough to be heard by everyone, “He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Why can't he come back?”

“Mairu--”

“Why can't he come back?!” the little girl demands, tears gathering in her eyes as she begins to struggle in Yume’s arms.  

“ _Mairu_ ,” Yume repeats, and Mairu stops struggling.  There is a beat of silence, before she promptly bursts into tears.

“She’s tired,” Kadota explains over the sound of sobbing, “I don't think she slept much last night.”

“It's alright,” Yume smiles softly, shifting Mairu until her head is resting in the crook of Yume’s shoulder, “She can go up to bed.  Kururi, too.  Does that sound good?”

Another little girl rises shyly from the sofa and shuffles to Yume’s side, reaching up to take Mairu’s hand where it hangs down.  Shizuo blinks.  If he hadn't seen them both at once, he likely would have assumed they were the same child - they're both almost completely identical.  The only real difference between them is the length of their hair - Kururi’s is cut short, almost like a boy’s, while Mairu’s hangs to her waist in unbrushed waves.  Yume quirks an eyebrow at this.

“Nobody did her hair?”

“I offered,” Namie says, “But she was adamant not to let anybody touch it.”

“Ah.  Well, I'll take them both up to bed then I'll be back down.  How about you all go into the dining room? Daiki-san should be done with the food.”

Everyone rises and begins to shuffle to a door beside the bookcases, and Shizuo follows awkwardly until Yume leans her head back in through the door.

“Except Shizuo! Sorry, I'll be back down in a minute.  Could you just wait there, and we'll be able to talk properly.”  She offers a smile and a chuckle, before she disappears again.  

Once he is alone, Shizuo takes a moment to breathe.  His anxiety has lessened considerably since the other children had taken little interest in him (beyond painting him as their newest authority figure, which was a mildly terrifying thought), but he still isn't quite sure how to feel.  The younger children are almost too much to keep up with, and the teenagers seem equally as threatening.  Namie seems to want little to do with anyone, Kadota seems to be too busy trying to keep everyone in check to really talk to, and Shinra is…well, Shinra.  They're not _cruel_ , at least, but Shizuo has a sinking feeling that every day is going to feel like this one, with him on the edge of things just like always.  But surely that was better than them fearing him, or hating him? Would it hurt less to live in the shadows, than to be in the harsh light of judgement? The door creaks open again, and Yume steps in.

“Hello,” she smiles sweetly, stretching out a hand as she approaches in a smooth and non-threatening motion.  She is younger than Shizuo was expecting, early to mid-thirties perhaps, with curly black hair just reaching her shoulders and rounded glasses.  She is dressed in colours as soft as her voice, a long flowing skirt and a tee shirt, and is the type of woman that young boys would think wonderingly of as the definition of _pretty_.  Nervously, Shizuo reaches out and shakes her hand.

“I'm sorry about all of the chaos,” she apologises, “Something urgent came up, and I've been out for a couple of days.  I wish you could have come at a calmer time, but perhaps this will help hasten your settling in.”  

“It's...uh, it's okay.  I've just been getting my stuff sorted.”

“All on your own? Oh, my! Well, I suppose you wouldn't want a stranger going through all of your things, would you?” Yume chuckles, “I'm used to dealing with the younger children, I'd better get it into my brain that you're one of the oldest.”

“Is it rare for older kids to come here, then?”

“A bit.  Though only because the children that come here are removed from their dangerous or harmful environments as quickly as possible.  It's rare that anyone can have a child in a bad situation for particularly long without getting caught, though of course there are exceptions.  Those are the particularly difficult cases.”

Shizuo takes a moment to consider that, but Yume shakes her head.  “Anyway! My name is Yume Kimura.  It's a pleasure to meet you, Shizuo.  I understand you've had some difficulties, just like everyone else, and I hope that we can help you in providing a safe environment to grow and learn in, and assist in guiding you into adulthood.”

It's clearly a practised paragraph, likely one repeated to every kid who walks through the doors, but it is comforting nonetheless.  Tentatively, Shizuo allows himself to hope that this place really will help him, that one day he’ll be a normal adult with a boring job and a house in the suburbs.  

Yeah, that sounds good.

 

~

 

Shizuo opens his eyes blearily, taking a moment to stare at the unfamiliar ceiling in confusion.  The sheets he is lay in feel foreign, like the sheets at a hotel, and as his gaze drifts down the blank white walls all he can think is that this place is not his home.

It takes a few minutes for it to set in that, in fact, it is.  He shifts slowly into a sitting position, grimacing slightly at the cold air and letting his hands run over the sheets as he searches for his phone amongst them.  When he finds it by following the charging cord plugged into the wall beside him, he flips it open and winces as the harsh light cuts through the darkness.  It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust.  03:26.  

The room is pitch-black and he doesn't have a lamp, or anything really beyond the light of his phone, so that is what he relies on as he climbs awkwardly out of the bed and makes his way through the remaining piles of stuff still scattered across the floor.  His throat is completely dry, surely he’s allowed to go downstairs to get a drink? It's not as if anyone actually explained the rules to him, he’d just gone into dinner after his brief conversation with Yume, and then watched some animated film which he couldn't remember the plot of in the living room with everyone else, glad for the silence.  He’d retired early with the younger kids on the insistence that he was tired, but he knew that he was truly just too nervous to be left alone with Kadota, Shinra, and Namie.  He couldn't hide from them forever, but the day had already been overwhelming.  He isn't sure how much more he could have taken.

He opens the door to his room slowly, surprised to find the hallway lights still on, but he supposes it makes sense for a house largely filled with little kids.  He is thankful for the light as he shuts the door as softly as possible behind himself, making his way agonisingly slowly down the hall, past all the bedroom doors, as if any moment someone is going to jump out and yell at him for being out of bed.  If it _was_ a strict rule, surely somebody would've told him about it?

Shizuo manages to get to the ground floor without incident, though his anxiety begins to build again once he notices that this hallway is bathed in darkness and freezing cold.  There isn't even any light under the door to the living room.  It's a straight run with no obstacles, but still he unlocks his phone again and holds out the dim screen as he edges his way towards the door.  Everything is completely silent, no cars outside, no animals or birds or insects, not even the hum of electricity to comfort him, and Shizuo is filled with a sense of dread as he reaches out, hyper aware of the window behind him looking out over the gravel driveway.  The door handle is freezing to the touch, but he leans his weight into it as he slowly creaks the door open - and meets the glinting eyes of an inky black figure stood amidst the darkness.  

For a moment, Shizuo is sure he is going to scream, but the sound gets stuck in his throat and all he manages is a cry of, “Fucking _shit_!”

Before Shizuo can process the absurdity of his terror, the figure is moving, away from Shizuo to the left wall, reaching out, and suddenly the room is bathed in blinding light.  

When Shizuo’s eyes adjust, he is met with the same glinting eyes on the face of a grinning teenage boy, dressed all in black.  He bursts into a quiet (but definitely mocking) sort of laughter once he sees the realisation dawn on Shizuo’s face, apparently deeply amused by his near-death experience, and Shizuo has no idea what to say.  He is filled with a sudden rage, both from embarrassment and the remains of fear.  Who the fuck _is_ this kid, stood in the middle of the living room at half three in the morning? Before Shizuo can make any demands or accusations, the door between the sofa and the bookshelves opens.

“What on _earth_ was--oh!”

Yume is now looking at them both with an amused smile on her face.  The boy has not stopped laughing, but has at least calmed down to a silent giggle that makes his shoulders tremble under the thick black coat he's wearing.  Yume is smiling at him with an eyebrow quirked, though she manages to test her eyes away to Shizuo.  “I'm sorry,” she smiles, unable to keep the traces of amusement out of her voice - she must've heard him loud and clear, “We must’ve startled you, Shizuo-kun.  What's the matter?”

“...wanted a drink,” he mumbles, still staring at the boy as his amusement at Shizuo’s expense finally fades.  He has his hood up and his shoes - a pair of black combat boots - still on, clearly having just come in from outside, and Shizuo can't see much of him now that he's turned his face towards Yume.  

“Water? I'll get it for you,” Yume offers, smiling, “Oh! You can come with me, actually.  I'll show you where the glasses and stuff are, for future reference.”

Somewhat awkwardly, Shizuo makes his way over to her.  He passes the boy as he goes; the cold of outside still seems to cling to him and sends an unpleasant shiver up Shizuo’s spine.  He smells strange, too; clinical, and clean, but not like the sweetness of soap.  He smells like a hospital.  

“Do you want to go up to bed?” Yume offers to the boy, turning to address him properly though his attention is seemingly now held by his own shoes, “Or would you prefer to wait and come up with me and Shizuo-kun?”

“I'll go up,” the boy responds easily, eyes drifting up as he smiles politely to Yume, “Goodnight, Yume-san.  Goodnight, Shizuo-kun.”

He meets Shizuo’s eyes briefly as he turns to leave, just a glint of red and then he's gone.  His footsteps are silent despite his heavy-looking boots, and once he's out of sight it's as if he's disappeared completely.  

When Shizuo returns to his bedroom with his drink in-hand, cold glass stinging his fingertips, he would have thought the entire interaction to be a dream if it wasn't for the light on underneath the brightly-decorated door opposite his.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm sorry for the wait - but this is a long chapter as an apology! Thank you all for being patient with me OTL (exams are looming over the horizon and I am dying)  
> Please excuse me shifting canon ages around trying to make the timelines fit lmao, but everyone's birthdays are still the same (and will be the focus of some coming chapters maybe!)  
> The response to this story has been super positive so far, so thank you all so much! Your comments and kudos (and reblogs on tumblr) mean the world to me, even though I suck at responding to comments - but I do try to respond to ones with questions in them! And a super big thank you to everyone who has left them so far!  
> Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Tumblr: kittycatbrains (come talk to me!)  
> Writing Tumblr: catbrains-writing


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Shizuo’s eyes blink open, his room is dim but bathed in daylight which flickers with the rain pouring outside.  The drops hit sharply and rhythmically against the window beside his bed, and for a long moment after waking he is unable to differentiate the noise from the sound of someone knocking impatiently at his door.  He attempts to formulate the words ‘come in’, but finds himself unable to make any noise but a low growl.  He clears his throat roughly, wincing at the sensation, and manages to grunt out a miserable-sounding “what?” just loud enough to be heard.  The door swings open and brings a wave of blinding light with it, spilling over the bed and forcing Shizuo to screw his eyes shut.  After a moment, the pain lessens and he manages to squint enough to see the blurred figure stood in his doorway.  Shinra, undoubtedly.

 

“You sleep like a log!” he exclaims in lieu of a greeting, voice still chipper even at what Shizuo assumes to be an ungodly hour (though one likely more godly than his last wake-up).  Shinra invites himself into the room without waiting for any sort of response.  As his vision clears, Shizuo can see that he's dressed in a baggy white t-shirt with a faded Irish flag on the front and a pair of striped blue pyjama trousers, hair even messier than it had been yesterday and glasses nowhere in sight.  He stumbles over nearly every obstacle he meets as he crosses the short distance to Shizuo’s bed and sits down heavily on the edge, narrowly missing his feet.

“Sorry,” he smiles, “I’m kinda blind without my glasses.”

“I can see that much,” Shizuo grumbles, voice low and scratchy.  

“Was that a pun?” Shinra asks.

“No.”

“Aww.  Well, whatever, apparently  _ you’re  _ deaf! I was stood out there knocking for ages.  I tried to just come in, but Kadota-kun stopped me.  He said it would be rude.”

“He would be right about that,” Shizuo grumbles.

 

He thinks back to last night - or earlier that morning - and the figure in the living room.  A quick glance to his bedside table where the empty glass sits confirms once again that it indeed was not a dream, though the event is vague in his memory with a dream-like quality.  Some people here definitely didn't know the meaning of ‘rude’.

“What time is it?” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he searches for his phone amongst the covers and unlocks it.  9:17, but Shizuo swears it feels at least three hours earlier.  Perhaps yesterday had been more draining that he had originally thought.

“Are there set wake-up times, or are you just being annoying?” he asks bluntly, his half-awake state rendering any and all of his (largely inefficient) filters completely useless.  Rather than being offended, Shinra laughs as if Shizuo had made a good-natured jab between friends.

“There's only set times to wake up on school days,” he explains, “On weekends and in the holidays you only have to get up if you want breakfast, which is usually at about nine o’clock.  So I did let you have a lie-in!”

Shizuo wonders what type of teenager considers seventeen minutes a lie-in, though he will admit that on school days he will milk every moment he can spend in bed before he is forced to get up.

 

“So, you don't have to get up if you really don't want to,” Shinra elaborates, “You are probably tired.  But I figured you're probably hungry, too.  So I guess it's whichever one wins out.”

After a moment’s consideration, Shizuo comes to the conclusion that hunger is definitely winning.  Dinner last night hasn't exactly been unpleasant, but it was clearly a rushed effort - he doubted that the cooking was usually left to Daiki.  He hadn’t eaten much of the dish, whatever exactly it had been, but he chalked that up to the anxiety that now seems to have settled somewhat.  That would be well and good, if it wasn't for the overpowering exhaustion and hunger that it had left in its place.

“I'll come,” Shizuo says, after what was probably too long a pause.  He clambers out of bed and takes a moment to stretch out his stiff shoulders.  He runs a hand through his messy hair and is briefly concerned with the amount of knots he comes across, but quickly decided that his appearance is something he can concern himself with after eating.  Besides, judging by the state of Shinra, breakfast isn't exactly a formal affair.

“You will?” Shinra exclaims, sounding both shocked and delighted, “It took ages for me to convince Izaya to do  _ anything  _ when he first got here! You're so much easier.”

Shizuo has been called a lot of things in his life, ‘easy’ not included.  He isn't entirely sure whether it's meant to be a good or bad thing.

 

“Can we go get food?” he pipes up suddenly when Shinra is halfway through drawing a breath, no doubt about to launch into another meaningless tirade.  He blinks for a moment, before nodding enthusiastically and springing up from the bed.

“Oh, yeah! Come on!”

He kicks over several more things as he leaves, old CD cases crunching under his feet, and Shizuo follows with a resigned sigh only to collide with his back once they're barely out on the door.  Shinra doesn't move, and Shizuo is forced to lean around him to assess the apparent obstruction, only to see the little girl who had argued with Masaomi the previous night, messy-haired and scowling with the other girl (her twin, undoubtedly) stood a pace behind her.  Mairu, Shizuo’s mind supplies - she was the loud one.  The other one was...K-something.  She hadn't spoken, so Shizuo hadn’t paid her much attention.

 

“Uh.  What is it, Mairu?” Shinra asks, his voice light with the usual tone people adopted with children.  Mairu meets him with a glare.

“Where is Iza-nii?” she demands, as if Shinra has kidnapped him.

Shinra blinks for a moment at the question, before giving an earnest-sounding, “I don't know.”

“Yes you do,” Mairu protests, stomping her tiny bare foot and looking conflicted between yelling and crying.  Shizuo suspects that she will do both.  He is far too sleepy to have crying little girls on his hands, not that K-something looks too upset, but he has no idea how to diffuse the situation.  He sure as hell doesn't know where Iza-nii is, doesn't even know  _ who  _ he is, but Shinra doesn't seem to care much even if he does possess the information.

“What makes you think that?” he asks.

“Because Yume-san knows! And she tells the older kids  _ everything _ .  Plus, you said you talked to Iza-nii!”

“I texted him yesterday morning,” Shinra explains, “He never replied.  I can even show you my phone as proof.”

Mairu doesn't seem at all interested in this defence, and gives Shinra a level stare that a child her age should not be capable of.

“Yume-san told you, though.”

“Yume-san told me something.”

“Why won't she tell  _ me _ ?” Mairu demands.  Shizuo winces, but at least she isn't crying.  

“Well, why don't you ask her?” Shinra offers easily, “Shizuo and I are going down to get breakfast.  You two can come with us, and you can ask her.”

Mairu blinks, suddenly silent and apparently in shock at being challenged so effectively.  If it wasn't for her sister, Shizuo would assume that Mairu was spoilt, but the short-haired girl is silent and obedient where Mairu is brash and demanding.  They're polar opposites, two extremes, like one person split in half.  Shizuo wonders what they'd be like if they were just one person, with both their personalities there to balance each other out.

 

The other girl steps forward for the first time during the interaction and silently tugs at the too-long sleeve of Mairu’s bright pink nightdress.  She is wearing a black one to match.  Mairu glances back to her and, as if this was an in-depth discussion, turns back and nods firmly.  She steps to the side of the hallway, now hand-in-hand with her sister, and allows Shinra past them to lead them all downstairs.  She follows him closely, as if he is going to go back on his word and flee somehow, and Shizuo brings up the rear with wavering patience.  How did anyone put up with kids?

 

The trip down the stairs feels shorter and far less dramatic than it had at three in the morning, but when they reach the living room it is just as silent as it had been then.  It has been tidied, apparently, with all the books and board games and chairs put in their rightful places, and is devoid of life as Shinra leads them through to the door beside the bookcases and down the hallway into the dining room.  The frosted glass door to the dining room is held open by a plush doorstop in the shape of a Shiba Inu, most likely selected by one of the kids.

 

In the dining room, the three kids who had been playing the board game last night are all huddled together on the side of the table closest to the door, the two boys making a mess with their sugar-heaped cereal as the girl eats politely.  Kadota is sat on the furthest side, next to the glass sliding door that most likely leads outside (the curtains are drawn and Shizuo can't see), dressed in an old grey hoodie with Namie, dressed in dark green silk pyjamas, opposite him.  There is another boy beside her, in an oversized knitted black jumper, and for a moment Shizuo blinks at him in confusion before his mind recognises the face without the hood and low lighting.  He quickly connects the dots.

“Iza-nii!” Mairu screams and sprints across the room to throw herself into his arms.  He catches her easily, looking somewhere between inconvenienced and relieved as she wiggles her way inelegantly into his lap and wraps her skinny little arms tightly around his neck.  He pulls her closer and begins bouncing her gently.

 

“Hey,” he greets quietly, voice gentle to match his soft features, “Hey, I'm back.  What are you blubbering for?”

It takes a moment before Mairu manages to choke out a wet “missed you”, face pressed into his collar as she weeps.  She calms down quickly, unlike yesterday, and settles until he pushes her back just slightly.

“Where are your glasses?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, “Don't tell me you've lost them.”

“I didn't!” Mairu quickly defends herself, “They're upstairs.  I forgot them.”

“And you forgot to brush your hair too, yeah? What's this?” He brushes a hand gently through her long hair, somehow managing to untangle several of the knots.  

“I did offer to do it,” Namie says, giving Mairu an unimpressed look.  Mairu sticks her tongue out.  “She was adamant that nobody can do it except you.”

“Nobody else does it right, or you don't like anybody else touching your hair?” he asks, and Mairu seems to consider this.

“Both,” she says eventually, “Kuru-nee can touch it.  But she isn't good at hair.  Only you are.”

Shizuo would argue that Namie’s hair looks perfectly fine, which is a considerable feat considering its length down to her tailbone, but nobody seems to have even noticed him and Shinra stood in the doorway yet.

“I'll do it after breakfast,” Izaya offers, then shifts Mairu back a bit to glance around the room.  “Where's Kururi?” 

 

When he catches sight of the other little girl stood meekly beside his chair, his face splits into a soft, warm smile.  Reluctantly, Mairu leaves his lap to slide into the chair beside him to allow Kururi to wiggle her way into Izaya’s lap.

“Iza-nii,” she says, voice soft and monotonous, “Iza-nii.”

If Mairu and Kururi are twins, Izaya must be their brother by blood too, though he doesn't look much like them.  Mairu and Kururi have very slightly wavy brown hair and brown eyes, whereas Izaya’s hair is straight and black, and his eyes are a deep reddish brown colour.  His skin is also deathly pale, while Mairu and Kururi have the slightly brighter and darker skin of children who still play outside.  Shizuo wonders if their hair will get darker as they grow older, like his did.  It was a soft brown when he was younger, and is now almost black, though he assumes that next to Izaya it would look just as light as it was back then.  

 

“Where were you?” Mairu asks suddenly, and Shizuo realises that she had been talking.

“Nowhere,” Izaya responds, “I was doing boring adult things.”

“Like what?”

“Taxes,” Izaya says, completely deadpan.

“Shuddup! You weren't!” Mairu bursts into a fit of giggles, certainly a lot more bubbly than she had been yesterday, though Shizuo questions her manners.  Not that he can really talk, but it's different when a little girl says it.

“We thought you died.”

“I died?” Izaya laughs, “Don't be dumb.  I wouldn't have died, you know that.  Because I'm immortal.  Nobody could  _ ever  _ take me down.”

Mairu giggles delightedly and begins to recount in detail what she had been up to during Izaya’s absence.  Kururi, still sat in his lap, begins tugging at the sleeve of his jumper.  “Hur,” she mumbles, but Izaya is still listening to Mairu as she rambles.  Kururi tugs harder and makes short little noises to try and garner her brother’s attention, the type of noises people make when their mouths are covered.  “Hur,” she repeats louder, standing up on her knees so that she can be eye-level with Izaya, “Hur.”

 

Shizuo is about to inform Izaya that Kururi is trying to get his attention, but he suddenly turns to her as if only then noticing that she was trying to get his attention.  He rubs a hand gently over her back in apology.  “What is it?”

“Hur,” Kururi says, and points a finger at him.  The noise is totally incomprehensible, at least to Shizuo, but Izaya seems to understand immediately.

“No, no, it's fine,” he says, a smile stretching across his face.  Shizuo recognises it immediately as the Big Brother Smile, the It’s Not Fine But I Don’t Want You To Have To Worry About It Smile.  Izaya pulls it off better than Shizuo ever could.

“I'm not hurt, see?”

Shizuo realises that Kururi must have been trying to say ‘hurt’, though the intonation of her voice hadn't even phrased it as a question.  

“Truth,” she says (asks? Shizuo still doesn't understand what she means), and Izaya offers his hand, all fingers tucked against his palm except his pinkie.  Tentatively, she links her tiny finger around his.  After a moment, the corners of her mouth turn up very, very slightly and Izaya smiles softly down at her.

“See?” he says, “Everything’s fine.”

Kururi settles, but does not unlink their fingers.  Izaya doesn't try to pull away.

 

“Oh, goodness, we don't have any tears, do we?” Yume asks suddenly, and Shizuo nearly jumps out of his skin.  She is stood behind him and Shinra in the hallway holding a large tray laden with covered bowls (and a stack of empty bowls) of varying sizes, and the smell of grilled fish and miso soup fills the air immediately.  Shizuo fumbles to step out of her way, grabbing Shinra’s arm to prompt him to do the same.

“You missed all that,” Kadota says, rising from his seat to shift the bowls and boxes of cereal littering the table to make space for the tray.  Yume places it down and begins uncovering each bowl.

“Are Seiji and Mika coming down?” she asks, to which Namie shakes her head.

“Seiji’s staying in bed, so I doubt Mika will make an appearance.”

“Unsociable little things,” Yume chuckles affectionately as she begins passing bowls out to everyone.

 

After a moment, she glances around the room and turns in confusion to the door.  “Shizuo-kun? And Shinra-kun! You can come in, you know? What are you hiding out there for in the first place?”

Shizuo shuffles awkwardly into the room, aware of everyone’s eyes on him, but Shinra bounds past him with a smile.

“We didn't want to disturb the happy family reunion,” he beams, then sits himself down in the seat beside Kadota, opposite Izaya.  Shizuo sits down beside him.

“Thank you for the meal,” everyone choruses in not-quite-unison.

 

Conversation drifts as food begins to be served, though Shizuo mostly watches and listens as the bowls are passed around until he happens to glance up and meet Izaya’s eyes.  He still has Kururi in his lap, though she is no longer holding his hand in favour of attempting to serve herself some rice, and his lips curl into a strange sort of smirk-smile when Shizuo blinks at him.

“I'm not so scary in the daytime, huh?” he says, then laughs.  In a moment, his attention is back on his sisters as he assists them in serving food for themselves (or, rather, just doing it for them) then beginning another conversation with Namie.  

 

Shizuo can't pick up what they're talking about but it sounds complicated.  They speak quickly, making jabs at each other and interrupting the other’s points, but ultimately they seem to be enjoying the other’s company in favour of paying any attention to the rest of the room.  Namie eats while Izaya speaks, then jabs her chopsticks at him as she counters his statements.  Izaya laughs, never making a move to get any food, and keeps talking, apparently intent on winding her up and succeeding.  

“Asshole,” she hisses quietly, likely mindful of Yume stood close, after he makes a particular comment that Shizuo did not pick up on, but then she smiles as Izaya laughs.  

“Eat, moron,” she tells him once he settles, but she is met with a petulant whine.  “Oh, come on.  You're not a child.”  But she reaches for his bowl and begins serving food for him anyway, albeit with a rather obvious lack of care.  She shoves the filled bowl back in front of him and pokes him in the cheek with his own chopsticks.  

“You'd make a terrible housewife,” he says, and Namie swipes at him.  

“Maybe for you.”

 

Awkwardly silent, and too nervous to ask anyone to pass the bowls over, Shizuo sits in the centre of the table and feels somehow alone, despite being surrounded by conversation.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the actually long wait for this chapter lmao, of course it's the update after I put myself on a schedule that's like two weeks late  
> But thank you all for being patient! Your comments and kudos (and reblogs on tumblr!) are the sweetest, even with my vague (*cough*non-existent) update schedule and lack of decent proofreading  
> Thank you so much for reading!! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed <3  
> (I'm also posting this with literally two minutes to spare until I go out whoops lmao, I'll clean this up later)


End file.
